


I Hope You Dance

by LashesandDiamonds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Major Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-12-16 20:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21042236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LashesandDiamonds/pseuds/LashesandDiamonds
Summary: The events after the war changed Hermione and in a bid start over she moved across the pond. However, life in a new place isn't always easy, especially on her finances. Ultimately this leads her into giving exotic dancing a go but it isn't all just the glitz and glamour of high heels and pole tricks hidden behind smoke and cheap perfume. What starts as quick way to make rent leads the Gryffindor golden girl to finding that spark again and not just within herself but also with perhaps the most unlikely of partners.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All recognized material belongs to their rightful owners and I do not profit off of these entities in any way. I just have fun playing with them.

The thick vapor filled her lungs bringing with it the knowledge that it certainly wasn’t good for her and that the manic hamster running circles through her mind would slow. One more hit on the little USB cancer stick and she would go back in. Just two more hours at Rick’s Diner running Coney dogs and praying for good tips and she would be done. She could do it.   
In her twenty-two years, Hermione Granger had learned a lot about sticking it through. Seven years of helping Harry dodge a madman had made her determined and the last five years since of the war had ended had just reinforced that. It hadn’t been easy, the endless funerals for friends that had become family had worn on her, her dead-end job at the ministry frustrated her. After that final day in May things were supposed to get better, magical Europe was supposed to be more accepting. Muggle-borns were supposed to be equal, sentient beings were going to finally get a say in the Ministry of Magic, she was the brightest witch of the age and she was the one who was going to write the legislation that was going to make it happen.  
But three months later people’s enthusiasm for equality was dried up. Sure, werewolves weren’t living in destitute packs anymore, but their children still couldn’t go to Hogwarts and what jobs they could get had shit pay. She had been laughed out of every meeting for even suggesting that house elves deserved a measly ten galleons a week. Hermione Granger was a failure at least in the ways that matter to her.   
However, it was Ron’s betrayal that drove her across the pond. She could still smell the cheap vanilla candle burning in her living room and see the overturned empty bottle of wine on her coffee table when she came home from yet another failed meeting this time pushing for programs to help muggle parents adjust to their little witches or wizard’s new world and caught them. The tall, slender nameless blonde groupie and her best friend, her fiancé, her Ron.   
The fight that followed echoed down the hallway of their apartment in upscale wizarding London as blondie scrambled for her clothes, if the scraps of material could even be called that. Merlin, they looked like something a Knockturn Alley whore would wear.   
Hermione exhaled sharply pushing the plume of smoke out of her lungs and watched it float into the misty December night in downtown Detroit shaking her head. It did no use to relieve that mess, it was thousands of miles away. That night she had thrown enough clothes for a weekend into her old beaded bag and flooed to Luna’s. Over the weeks following the final battle Luna’s oddities no longer endless irritated her but rather settled in a familiar peace that no matter what turmoil raged in the world stayed constant.   
What was supposed to be just few days turned into two weeks of refusing to venture out into the hornet swarm of reporters desperate to catch a glimpse of the distraught golden girl and the distinct feeling that although Luna was ever the perfect hostess albeit a bit absent minded, Hermione had over stayed her welcome. Gathering what was left of her meager savings account after purchasing what was supposed to be their starter home, one Ron had pushed for because he didn’t “have nice things” as a child even though it was over budget, Hermione had booked a flight for New York.  
After a few weeks staying at the Black Newt, New York’s equivalent of the Leaky Cauldron, and watching what little money she did have rapidly shrink she had seen a tourist wearing a Detroit Hustle’s Harder sweatshirt and decided what the hell, she knew next to nothing about that place except for its love of cars and that she was willing to hustle too. If nothing else the cost of living would be a touch better and again packed, her few possessions and apparated to Detroit only to sit in the same coffee shop each morning and nurse a cup of dreadful excuse for tea and watch time go by.  
In those hours spent sitting sipping she learned a lot, Detroit was no longer a dangerous pit of economic hardship; it was on the rebound and filled with people like her that wanted a fresh start. One of those people was Candice, she had a mess of black curls that rivaled her own and had moved there to escape her sleepy town and embrace her…free spirit. Taking advantage of the county university’s low tuition was an added bonus. Luckily for Hermione, Candice desperately needed a new roommate to be able to afford to move out of her current place so that she would never have to speak to Bianca the bitch ever again and no longer had to put up with the constant judgement of Bianca’s prudish ways. Because apparently, even in 2018, the idea of a grown woman bettering herself off the dime men as an exotic dancer was simply too risqué.   
And that was how she ended up here, pushing the back door into the restaurant and hurrying past the shelves of cleaning supplies and other junk collected over the years, through the kitchen, and back into her own personal hell. Two more hours of half-drunk idiots begging for refills and extra ketchup and she would be home free and damn it if she didn’t have to fish her tip out of another upturned water glass left by another twenty something year old guy trying to be clever, she would call it a win.   
The next hour was mercifully short and the following a blur as she wiped tables, swept, mopped and helped prepare for the next morning’s breakfast rush in a haze. Well Candice loved shaking ass to a jumble of rap Hermione just couldn’t bring herself to join her even if she didn’t have a problem with it. Something about her parent’s disappointment in seeing their daughter crawl around the stage half naked for a few dollar bills stopped her, even if her parents were still happily running a flower shop in Australia blissfully unaware, they even had a daughter.   
The tinkling of the bell hung above the door interrupted her musings. Shit I must have forgotten to lock the front door again Hermione thought to herself cursing the possibility of having to argue with yet another party goer desperate for a late-night meal.  
“Sorry we’re clo—” Hermione started before she was interrupted.  
“Oh hush, it’s just me momma” Candice offered happily turning to flip the lock before skipping happily dated red tables in a way only she could at nearly three in the morning.   
“Sorry Candy, I didn’t even look up. Today’s been a long one. You know Rick has told you you can use the staff entrance. Just wasn’t expecting you to come through the front” Hermione offered.   
“Barf you know I hate walking past the dumpster, I have a very fine nose you know.” Candice replied tapping her nose for emphasis before pulling back her hood.   
“Yah yah, papa used to say you have a sense of smell stronger than a blood hound. I know” Hermione replied this time truly looking up from the piles of silverware she was sorting and seeing Candice for the first time all day.  
Gosh with make-up Candice looked even more like a doll. Unlike Hermione her messy curls fell into neat ringlets with just a touch of mousse even after being crushed into the hood of a winter jacket and the fake lashes only added to effect framing her round grey eyes. How did she do it? She had just worked an eight-hour shift at the club and still seemed to have boundless energy. She made her worn skinny jeans and Ugg boots look like they were supposed to be that way instead of part of the “bum costume” all the girls wore out of work to dodge the attention of the last to leave customers. Maybe it was the fact that with working just three nights a week she still made enough cash to pay all her bills and save a nice bit.   
“Right you are, now lemme help ya finish up so we can go home” Candice snipped back before bumping Hermione over rapidly flicking silverware into the appropriate bins like a niffler set loose on a pile of treasure.  
“Mia call it quits girl.” Rick’s gravelly voice called from the kitchen breaking the stream of ting ting ting as forks and knives dropped into their buckets.  
“Seriously Hermione, I know you pulled a double but the zombie act ain’t cute. Go home and sleep.” He prodded gently emerging from the kitchen. “Oh, hey Candy, didn’t see you sneak in. There’s a slice of pie wrapped and waiting for each of you waiting on the back counter. I know it’s a real lady’s choice” He added with a smile creasing the worn lines of his face earned over the years of running his family business.   
“Thanks Rick, I appreciate it. Let me just sign out.” Hermione sighed sorting the last of the silverware before shuffling to punch out, grab her jacket, and collect their treat with Candice trailing behind her waving goodbye.  
The car ride home was filled with Candice softly singing to the Christian music station which still after all these weeks still made Hermione scrunch up her brow. How could a girl be so at ease in a strip club seducing men and capitalizing on being hot still be so into Jesus music? Oh well Hermione sighed.  
Years ago, the contradiction would have made the swotty know it all Hermione argue with her over the confusing morality of it all but now it wasn’t her place to judge Afterall, she had made some interesting choices that others didn’t understand. For example, leaving her celebrity status all behind her and for the most part her magic too. Now she only used the minimalist of spells and hadn’t brewed something more difficult than a pepper up potion in almost six months. Candice was a muggle but due to the constant close quarters it wasn’t long before they had to have the talk which Candice took surprisingly well revealing that she had regularly practiced tarot cards and while by her own definition was a Christian, believed there was more out there than just the Good Book. To this Hermione summed it up to just another one of Candice’s free spirit and while she didn’t place much stock in divination did admit that even without traditional magic, Candice gave a better reading than Lavender Brown and Padma Patil on their best days. Who was she kidding anymore Hermione was a far cry from the ambitious second year who brewed Polyjuice in a bathroom and wasn’t entirely sure of how magic flowed, half the theory books she had spent her entire academic career pouring over hadn’t really panned out anyway. She sighed again. It seemed like tonight was filled with her troublesome reminiscing.   
Jeeze Mia what’s with the sighing tonight? I’m not your mom and you aren’t a middle schooler I picked up early from the school dance.” Candice broke from her singing turning down the radio dial.   
“It’s nothing Candice, just thinking” Hermione responded.   
“Is it about budgeting and money again? You know I don’t mind covering some of your rent, you’re a much better cook than I am. Without you I would be living off chips and cheese again. Plus, you scored us pie” She turned over grabbing the white paper bag shaking it encouragingly.  
Hermione sighed again. While the rest of the night had mercifully not included dollar bills drowning in ice water the pocket reserved for tips in her waist apron felt pitifully thin and rent was due tomorrow and as of last night, she was over a hundred dollars short.   
“Candice, you know I can’t let you do that.” Hermione pleaded.  
“Oh hush, you know it is no big deal. Club was decent tonight even with the weather being crummy.” Candice supplied knowing full well that Hermione wouldn’t accept, a guy could through a stack of hundred-dollar bills on her and Hermione would still say no. This time it was Candice’s turn to sigh.   
“Hermione listen I know you won’t take the money, but the club is always taking new dancers and—” Hermione cut her off.   
“You know I can’t do that either and that I won’t ever knock your hustle but it’s not right for me.” She readjusted the dial and looked out the window to avoid the big puppy dog eyes imploring her to just try it for a night.   
She had heard the argument over and over. This club was different, girls were protected, it wasn’t seedy at all, skanks got fired quickly, it was the best of the best. Hell, this club served alcohol and under state law the girls could only be topless, and you could find a sexy pair of tits in no time flat online anyway. She wouldn’t have to give up her job at Rick’s and could wear a wig and all the girls danced under fake names anyways, it wasn’t like she anyone she knew would ever walk in. The idea of forking out the two hundred dollars for a dance card though immediately stomped whatever feeble contention that she would even try it just for a night. She wouldn’t dream of asking Candice to help her with her rent let alone asking Candice to float the money to pay for a dance card she would chicken out and never even use anyway.   
Just then they pulled into the driveway and Candice cut the engine of her Mini Cooper, the one treat she had allowed herself after nearly a year of dancing, effectively dismissing Hermione’s fledging fever dream of becoming an exotic dancer. With that Hermione opened the door and raced up the front steps of their modest townhouse half an hour west of the city to unlock the door while Candice slung her dance bag over her shoulder and hurried behind her.   
Sure, maybe they could have found something closer to the University but both young women enjoyed the peacefulness of the suburbs compared to downtown and it gave Candice’s family peace of mind that their little girl was still the small-town angel they wanted her to be, naturally they knew nothing of their daughter’s night time activities. And what Candice had described them as they would shun her for life if they ever found out.   
“Check the freezer for some ice cream will ya? Imma throw dance clothes in the wash real quick so I don’t forget tomorrow afternoon.” Candice asked.  
“Sure thing.” Hermione nodded wandering past the entry way into their neat kitchen in search of ice cream.   
She found it at the bottom of Candice’s junk food drawer stocked with pizza rolls and fish sticks and left it sitting on the counter to soften before attempting to scoop it. Biting her lip Hermione reached for the wad of cash shoved in her apron pocket groaning. It mostly singles intermixed with a few fives. Rick’s served great diner food, but it was just that diner food, and cheap. Which meant a twenty percent tip normally didn’t equate to more than five dollars, seven if she was lucky and tonight was especially poor. Nonetheless Hermione counted it out frowning as she scribbled $63.74 into the orange notebook with “I believe in the power of positive bitching” in bold print splashed across the front cover that Candice had picked up as a housewarming present for her. She was nearly $40 short just to cover rent in the morning and sure she got her actual paycheck later this week she needed some cash to contribute to groceries and had one pod left for the stupid juul Candice had gotten her hooked on after one girl’s night out. Oh well she still had some money left in her savings drawer she would just pick up an extra shift or two and it would all work out.   
Sliding it back in the drawer to the right of the refrigerator and picking up the ice-cream scoop Hermione heard the telltale bounds of Candice coming back down the stairs and smiled. After a long day something about cherry pie would wash all the stress away and with that, she grabbed a spoon and collapsed at the table ready to enjoy the few minutes of peace the sticky treat provided.   
The girls ate in silence punctuated by the soft clink of spoons on plates and occasional rasp of each girl’s personal cancer stick.  
“Mmm what would we do without cherry pie?” Candice hummed, pushing away from the table and placing her plate in the sink.  
“Don’t worry about the dishes, I’ve got them in the morning.” Hermione rolled her eyes taking one last drag.  
“Thanks momma,” Candice replied sleepily “Imma go take a hoe bath and settle in for the night.”   
Hermione nodded as she stood to add her own plate to the sink smiling softly. Candice was a lot of things, neat and tidy wasn’t one of them more like organized chaos. Thankfully they didn’t have to share a room and a it wasn’t the Gryffindor dorms all over again.   
The soft smile was later replaced with frown when Hermione opened her small safe tucked in the back corner of her closet. There was only $32 left and she was officially for the first time in her life short on rent and once again had failed this time on something incredibly basic and not a fantasy of grandeur of equal rights for all creatures. She gulped stumbling to the edge of her bed and sitting down resting her elbows on her knees.   
“Easy girl just breathe” she coached herself absently bringing the silver stick to her lips inhaling counting to five and then slowing releasing it.   
She pressed her lips together and the hamster started running faster than Harry on his firebolt after the snitch. Candice normally made at least 250 on a week night much more on weekends. What was worse? Starting a spiral of always asking Candice to cover her expenses for her giving dancing a go and asking Candice to help pay for her dance card? Both options required swallowing a great deal of pride. Fuck, where was that Gryffindor spirit now? She needed it desperately and lately it had been absent. Replaced instead by something distinctly Hufflepuff that simply refused to quit and give up. When finally, an image flashed behind her eyes effectively bringing the mind rodent to an abrupt halt.   
Candice’s wide grey eyes filled with that secret shame, pain masked under and strong I don’t care what you think attitude fueled by her innate desire for independence. Once again that Hufflepuff streak was alive and well. They only got this little house because Hermione was able to promise that together they would have the stability of two incomes to afford it. She couldn’t do that to Candice to ask her to either move or take on a new roommate and beside Hermione really couldn’t bank on getting another person let alone young woman that would be able to keep quiet about living with a real witch. And that was enough.   
Screaming silently Hermione pulled herself up off the bed and set a path straight out her bedroom door and across the hall before she lost her nerve. She gulped and knocked softly on the door before she could pause and fully consider her options.   
“Just come in Mia, no need to knock,” Candice called teasingly.   
She pushed the door open paused in surprise when she was met with the sight of Candice sitting on her bed surrounded in piles of singles. Candice blushed, Hermione knew she normally avoided letting her see the cash counting process as she never wanted to push Hermione’s decision or make her feel like less because her job certainly didn’t pay as well. That sight was enough.  
“Fuck it, I want to do it” Hermione spit out.  
Candice jumped sending singles flying onto the floor in a flurry that made Hermione wince knowing that her announcement had certainly resulted in a lose of count.   
“Really you mean it? You will give dancing with me a go?” Candice squealed.  
“It won’t be permanent,” Hermione cautioned.   
“That’s fine, I won’t push you to stay” Candice answered quickly nodding like an erratic bobble head, her hands clasped in front of her chest excitedly trying to rein it in.   
“And” Hermione paused, looking around the room nervously before swallowing “I will need a favor.”  
“Of course, Mia anything. I will do your make-up and hair every night, I will loan you some outfits, and teach you some dance moves before we go, I will stand in line all afternoon with you to fill out paperwork, anything” Candice rushed.  
“I need you to help me pay for my dance card and rent tomorrow. I will pay you back immediately just—”   
“Duh bitch I have already planned for all of that” Candice waved her off leaving Hermione to sputter she pressed on “I knew from that first time we met that you had the mental strength necessary to a dancer and when you got a job at Rick’s to carpool that was great and all but that job doesn’t pay jack shit even if Rick is a sweetie and gives us free pie. I also knew this needed to be your choice and that I couldn’t push you. So here.”  
Candice got up and padded over to her much larger safe and pulled out a lime green envelope.   
“What’s this?” Hermione asked, accepting it reluctantly and opening it with shaking fingers that betrayed the depth of her trepidation.  
“Two hundred. For your card and three hundred to buy you some decent shoes, a skirt, cash bag, all the other little extras I wish I had when I started.” Candice responded softly.   
“Oh Candy, I can’t take that much, really I will just wear some cute bra and panties I already have.” Hermione answered.   
“Girl with your ass and new girl luck you will pay me back in a night you watch.” Candice encouraged.   
“Bullshit.” Hermione bit back.  
“Just trust me Mia,” Candice implored, “I know this isn’t your first choice but trust me you got this.”  
“Just for a bit.” Hermione warned.  
“Just for a bit,” Candice echoed, “Now help me count all these singles and consider it practice for counting your own!”  
And with that Hermione smiled weakly tucking the envelope into her pocket and bending to gather the dollar bills strewn across the silver rug and beginning to count. No turning back now she thought, Candice would never let her turn back. This time next week she would be a stripper too she realized as her heart jumped in her chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always all recognized characters and settings belong to their rightful owners. I just play with them. As a treat I decided to post the second chapter early. Enjoy!

The next day Candice informed her that the next available day the club’s agent would be available to take girls to get dance cards would be Wednesday, which meant that Hermione had just under a week worth of shifts left full time at Rick’s. The fact brought comfort but with each day that passed that sense of peace was nibbled away.   
Finally, Wednesday dawned grey and chilly. Hermione woke up early, her morning tea was tasteless as it scalded her tongue. In the shower the hot water beat down on her shoulders as she sat on the tiled floor meticulously shaving her legs, her underarms, and her crotch. Even though there were potions that removed hair nothing seemed to work as well as a muggle razor. At this point her heart had been racing nonstop for two days and she had yet to even step foot in the club.   
Candice however had at least convinced her to spare half an hour of her time practicing how to dance like a stripper. The start of it being simple enough at least theoretically; forget about trying to arch your back and push out your bum just point your toes and smile on stage. Be the very best part of yourself and forget about the rest. Don’t put on a show just perform. That all sounded like something a first year could handle but lately Hermione wasn’t convinced she knew what the very best part of herself was anymore.  
Sure, she could go for the easy parts, her desire to learn and her talent to retain information. She supposed the school girl know it all could be sexy but was afraid of the fetish clientele she might attract. Her hair had always been wild but over the years had settle into a sort of untamed halo that maybe if she borrowed some of Candice’s hair products, she could wrestle into a sort of warrior princess look. But to be honest the idea of being remembered for her hair again made her stomach churn and brought images of the past to the surface in which Professor Snape sneered down his hooked nose and Malfoy teased her ruthlessly.   
The shift in water temperature put a halt to her internal debate and she slowly picked herself up off the floor and turned off the tap before reaching for a towel. Stepping out of the shower she peered at herself in the long mirror hung off the bathroom door.   
Wrapped in a pink towel her hair hung in strands over her shoulders to the center of her back and hazelnut eyes looked back at her with a mix of excitement and dread. She took a deep breath and dropped the towel letting it pool at her feet and for the first time in a long time looked at her body. Gone was the softness of her cheeks and rounded face, in its place was sharper angles that told the story of a girl who had seen too much. While most girls used make-up to achieve those angles Hermione’s had formed over years of self-reliance and grit. Her breasts although not as large as must she supposed looked ok. Her waist was slim and flared nicely to her hips and she had her mother’s legs, certainly not ballerina quality but still slender and toned. Hermione turned looking over her shoulder and wondering if her bum really was as nice as Candice claimed.   
Honestly, she didn’t care. Gone where the days that Hermione longed to be one of the pretty girls that boys fawned over. Her body was slim and toned, she looked strong. Perhaps not the quidditch player and only girl in a house full of boys strong that Ginny had but a quiet strength of maturity and resilience strong. Although the idea of men even remotely respecting her in a strip club seemed implausible, she supposed the best part of herself was that strength and that was the side she was going to take. Hermione knew she wasn’t comfortable drinking in her new work situation, she wasn’t going to be one of those absolutely pissed dancers bouncing around charming men into paying up because maybe this girl was drunk enough, she might go home with them. According to Candice the traveling business men loved that mature responsible girl and had the money to pay her well for just her company. Perhaps that strength would appeal to them as well.   
Shivering she reached for her towel and scurried down the hallway to dress in the privacy of her bedroom. As she slipped black leggings up her thighs, she could hear the telltale signs of life downstairs as Candice poured herself a bowl of cereal slamming the cabinet doors shut. Hermione winced. Months on the run had made her quieter and it was a habit that stayed with her still. She pulled her favorite cream sweater over her head and grabbed her wand from beneath her pillow before tucking it into her waistband and heading downstairs.   
As she turned into the kitchen Candice mumbled what she assumed was a good morning between bites of cinnamon cereal. Opting for something lighter Hermione grabbed an apple from the bowl and sat down beside her.   
“Morning Candice, what time do we need to leave?” Hermione asked.  
“Bout’ and hour or so, traffic sucks going into town in the morning,” Candice said.  
Hermione murmured a reply, munching softly on her apple contemplating if she was really going to do this. Upon realizing she had eaten every last bit of apple she stood and decided to wash the dishes by hand as if such a mundane task would slow time. It didn’t.   
All too soon she was back the bathroom casting a drying spell on her hair frowning at the flyways that emerged and wondering how she was even going to attempt something more than her usual dab of mascara and chap stick tonight.   
“Knock, knock figured you could use some help.”  
Candice entered the bathroom and started pulling out her makeup bag before Hermione could protest that she was fine.   
“Sit,” Candice ordered directing Hermione to sit on the toilet and began by manhandling Hermione’s chin up and painting on foundation with sure strokes and skillfully drawing on a slight winged eyeliner.   
“Look up,” Candice said before frosting her lashes with mascara, a neutral lip gloss finished the look.   
“There now let me just fix your hair, everyone looks like booty hole in their picture and I can fix you up more at work.”  
After a dollop of mousse Candice twist a thick strand of hair back away from Hermione’s face before securing it with crisscrossed bobby pins and just as quickly as she had arrived Candice floated out of the bathroom to finish getting ready. Hermione once again looked at herself in the mirror. Candice had done a minimal amount of make-up and yet it still looked better than anything she could have done by herself. She forced and small smile as if that would be enough to reassure her this was a good idea and once again went downstairs.  
Just as she was starting to get nervous that Candice was running late, the dark-haired girl bounded down the stairs with her loud tropical print dance bag slung over her shoulder and ushered her to the car.   
The ride downtown was slow and filled once again with Jesus music. Hermione looked over at Candice questioningly as they pulled into the parking lot of a much seedier looking club.   
“Don’t get nervous on me now, we are just meeting here our club is much nicer,” Candice said.  
Hermione nodded as she took in her surroundings and watched a dirty blonde with what looked like cheap extensions cross the parking lot and enter through the back. How did a girl like her or Candice end up in a place like this at 11:30 in the morning? Money and independence, that’s how Hermione mused.   
Once again time sped up and they were standing in a dingy locker room with garish red carpet filled with the scent of homemade chicken soup awkwardly making small talk with the three other girls getting dance cards that day.  
“Mm, the club hopper girls are right. Mom here does really bring good food,” Candice said.   
Just then a plump man with a graying beard walked in wrapped in a silver scarf, the cloying scent of his cologne clashing horribly with the homey scent of soup. His name was Steve and after a flurry of initial paperwork the three other girls were climbing into the back of his grey SUV.   
“Don’t worry, we will follow you,” Candice said.  
The drive into the actual downtown area took much shorter than expected but the line was as long as ever. With each moment that passed two of the other girls showed more of their true colors. They presented as stereotypical misguided girls, barely 18 with a patch work of poorly done tattoos that they eagerly showed off to pass the time. One of them had a baby that was barely two and she longed to make money to spoil her daughter with designer baby clothes. The other girl in their party although sweet had gotten kicked out by her family and was living with friends and needed to get back on her feet, maybe buy a reliable car.   
Hermione let Candice do most of the talking wondering just how long these girls would last being so young, at 22 she felt old. Finally, they reached the counter window and had their paperwork cleared before being sent on their way to get the actual card at the police station.   
If she thought Ministry lines moved slow, she was mistaken when they arrived at the police station. There was barely anyone there and still it took another hour and a half to get four blurry snap shots taken via webcam on the other side of the window. In total the entire process from start to finish took nearly four hours. When the slim card, officially an adult cabaret license, was slipped into Hermione’s hands Candice gave a whoop declaring Hermione was now another queen of the night and that they desperately needed some lunch suggesting a taco place next to their club. She agreed looking forward to something that seemed perfectly ordinary.   
As they devoured their tacos Hermione gasped, “Candice, I need a name.”  
“Shit, have you thought of anything?” Candice asked.   
“Not really, what about Angel?” Hermione trailed off.  
“Mia, the club is called Angel’s Lounge. Do you know how many baby dancers we get trying to call themselves Angel? It is too basic”  
“Well then oh experienced one, what is your name?” Hermione asked sipping on her sprite.   
“Savvy,” Candice replied with smirk eerily similar to a blonde ferret’s, “Short for Savanah but nobody calls me that unless it is a douche who can’t live with the fact that yes, when I step into work, my real name is Savvy.”  
Hermione bit her lip thinking. All the names of literary characters and historical figures flashed before her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to settle on one. Athena was too much of the old bookish Hermione. All the other names she listed off sounded boring or just didn’t fit.  
Candice giggled, “What about London? You still have a bit of an accent sometimes.”  
Hermione shuddered. She couldn’t go by that multiple hours a week and constantly be reminded of that place.   
“No, I was thinking Giselle.” Hermione replied.   
“Giselle, Giselle,” Candice repeated, “Sexy, kinda exotic. I like it and I know it’s not taken.”  
Hermione smiled a real smile for the first time all day.   
“It’s the name of a very famous ballet in which Giselle dies of a broken heart and is summoned by spirits who dance men to death. They try and convince her to do the same to her ex-lover.”  
“Hermione, I didn’t know you had it in you to be that dark, but it’s oddly fitting,” Candice said matching Hermione’s smile.   
Hermione looked down feeling her cheeks heat. Sometimes her endless knowledge was a major benefit and to the right crowd, humorous. She wiped at bit of spilt salsa, neatly gathering trash in the plastic serving basket.   
“Well Giselle, what do you say we go take all the boys fuckin’ money,” Candy asked leaning her forearms on the table eagerly.  
“I suppose it is that time,” Hermione said.  
The girls dropped their leftovers in the bin on their way out and walked to the car, Candice skipping and Hermione feeling her feet get heavier with each step she took. It was really time, five minutes later they had pulled into the valet lane in front of the nondescript Angel’s Lounge. Unlike the other club they had visited earlier this one didn’t rely on flashy landscaping and a large portrait of a pouty red head to lure men into the club. Instead it was a simple brick building with black front windows and a banner that read Angel’s Lounge in cursive script illuminated by glowing lights. Valet quickly arrived and Candice swung the door open into the cold Hermione scrambled after her gulping as they entered through the valet door and took the stairs into the basement where the dressing room was located. The stopped along the way in the managers office. A clutter roomed dominated by two large desks and a wall of security monitors.   
“Hey, James this is my friend I was telling you about. Just got her card this afternoon,” Candice said as a slim balding man in a suit looked up from his computer.   
“Well Savvy you are right she is cuter than pictures. She’s hired. Do you have a name picked for yourself Hermione or do you need the stripper baby name book?” James asked offering a reassuring smile and looking toward Hermione.  
“No Sir. You can call me Giselle,” Hermione said offering her hand for a handshake.  
“Sir? No need for the formalities her Giselle, just fill these out and give your dance card to the house mom and then I will walk you through the ground rules and I’m sure Sav will introduce you to our DJ, Mike,” James said passing over yet another stack of paperwork.   
“Thanks,” Hermione said taking the stack and following Candice out of the office and into the dressing room.   
“Mom, we got fresh meat and she needs an outfit and shoes,” Candice announced parading in and dropping her dance bag onto the counter.   
“Welcome to Angel’s. I’m Chrissy the house mom. Good, it looks like James got you the paperwork just give me your ID and card and fill out those forms really quick then I will explain how tip out works and get you something to wear,” an older woman with ashy blonde hair said from her desk chair.  
Hermione rustled through her small wallet pulling out the two cards and handing them over to the house mom before searching for a bit of counterspace to write. The paperwork contained a lot of the same information she had filed out earlier in the day like her full legal name, address, and birthday followed by a general disclaimer about the club’s responsibilities and how she would be classified as an independent contractor and it was up to her to file her own taxes as a 10-99. She sighed signing her name for what felt like the millionth time before handing it in.   
“Got a name for yourself dear?” Chrissy asked reminding Hermione of Mrs. Weasley.  
“Cand—Savvy said that the name Giselle was available,” Hermione responded.   
“Sure dear,” Chrissy said marking it down in the notebook with her large bubbly handwriting, “Now what about an outfit? You’ve got a nice figure I think two pieces would suit you, but I do have a few one pieces that would look nice. What shoe size are you?” Chrissy rattled on.  
“A forty-one or I guess an eight is was you would call it here. And I’m not sure about an outfit just pick something you feel would like nice I suppose,” Hermione said bringing her arms up to her chest self-consciously.   
“Oh, from across the pond then love?” Chrissy asked turning to pull hangers off a rack jam packed with skimpy outfits and handing them over her shoulder to Hermione.   
“Yah, been in the states a few months now though. Living with Savvy means that some of my slang has started to shift over though,” Hermione said taking the outfits gingerly grimacing at one that was an electric neon yellow.   
While Candice had started applying her own make-up for the night Hermione peeled off her protective layers thankful that after seeing some real stripper outfits, she had opted to let Candice cover her for one instead of wearing a bra and panties. The first one she tried on was a deep red and had straps that cross over her stomach. Both Mom and Candice shook their heads quickly. The next was a basic black with silver beads edging the top. Although not as bad as the red both women had luke warm reactions. Third try was the charm. The rich purple fabric stretched nicely across her chest and the bottoms had a slight high waist accenting her slim middle and although little was left to the imagination something about this outfit felt comforting.   
Next came shoes which Hermione made Hermione wobble as she stepped into them for the first time. Instead of the basic clear heels that seemed to be in every dancers’ wardrobe Hermione chose the sleek black pair that seemed to glint as the light hit them. The sequined strap over her toes added some variety and a plain black wrap that was supposed to cover her bum when not on stage completed her very first stripper outfit.   
Candice gestured her over and started working her own brand of magic with make-up. Building a soft smoky eye in golds and browns and dropping a set of large false lashes on. Hermione blinked adjusting to the added weight but trusting that Candice knew what she was doing. Her lips were lined and filled with a matte berry color and Hermione looked at herself realizing she didn’t recognize the woman looking back at her but after all maybe that was a good thing. Candice often described it as checking herself at the door and becoming Savvy when she walked into work. Maybe Hermione had been left behind long ago. Maybe when she left her parents for the first time on platform 9 3/4 or broke all those rules with Harry and Ron back in school, or maybe when she obliterated her parents, or at the final battle when she watched so many of her friends die, or most likely in that apartment back in London. She was Giselle now.   
“Here, I got you something,” Candice said offering her a small package wrapped in white tissue paper.  
“Savvy, you already have done so much but thank you.”   
Hermione took the package and opened it revealing a small silver bag decorate with little witches on broomsticks and cauldrons and black cats.  
“I love it,” Hermione said smiling at the irony.   
“I knew you would. No come on. Let’s go,” Candice said tugging Hermione along up a different set of stairs and onto the main floor of Angel’s where already guys were sitting at the bar and two girls were on stage.  
Hermione swallowed taking it all in. She knew this club was big, she just didn’t realize how big. Two poles on the main stage filled the space and stretched the ceiling and booths lined the walls. The small round tables dotted the floor and a tip rail provided a place for customers to smoke and rest their drinks while they stood and watched the show. A large stair case led to the second floor which was equally as large as the one below.   
“Hiya Mike,” Candice called hopping up onto the ledge of the DJ booth, “Meet Giselle. She’s new care to give her the newbie speech?”  
Mike wore a button-down shirt and had short hair that he had spiked in some sort of effort to make him look more edgy. He easily explained the tip out, how the stages work, how her top needed to come off at the end of her first song and cautioned her that any rule breaking in the VIP will result in her immediately being fired, before finally asking what she wanted to dance to.   
Hermione quickly looked over at Candice, they hadn’t talked about this and she certainly didn’t listen to muggle rap music. Candice came to her rescue just asking that they dance together, and that Hermione dance her first song to what she considered a classic, after all it was what she had danced her very first stage set to. Circus by someone called Brittney Spears. Mike nodded waving them back downstairs.   
“Alright gentlemen that’s Dayla stepping down grab that hottie for a dance, Trisha has two more left joining her is the very sexy Blair. Up in two Savvy and in four the brand-new Giselle. Be sure to take care of those ladies on stage and I’m sure they well take care of you when the get off. Blair you’re on,” Mike’s voice echoed throughout the club.   
All too soon Candice was stepping on stage and easily climbing the pole sliding down spinning elegantly with her black curls streaming out behind her and then it was time the DJ was announcing Giselle over the PA system. Merlin help her now Hermione thought as she stepped up onto the stage as the first beat of the song dropped.  
Candice smiled encouraging her all she needed to do was point her toes and smile. Just feel the music it was early, people knew she was new pole tricks weren’t expected, everything would be fine. Hermione wasn’t so sure reaching for the gleaming silver pole to steady herself gasping as it turned beneath her hand.   
So that was how girls spun so fast, she could do this. After a few drinks she wasn’t afraid to dance on tables while on a girl’s night out this was no different. Her smile felt a bit stiff but as she relaxed, she felt her body start to adjust to the music. To her surprise a man with a thick beard rose from one of the small tables to her left leaving his friends and placed a few singles on the stage. Just then the song ended and shifted into the next. She dropped to her knees wincing at the impact that would certainly leave a bruise tomorrow. Quickly before she lost her nerve, she untied her top and tossed it to the side of the stage where she had left her cash bag.   
“You’re cute, come join us when you’re done,” the man said adding a few more singles to the stage.  
Hermione nodded not truly believing that someone thought her dance was good enough to even tip at all. What was the world coming to? She was Hermione Granger, golden girl, and war heroine. But Candice was right at the very least check your real life at the door. Hermione was miles away. In Angel’s Lounge she was Giselle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regularly scheduled update coming Tuesday morning. If anyone knows how to find a beta reader, drop me a line. That would be greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a serious family emergency this took forever to get back on track. Fear not! We are back to our regularly scheduled program, enjoy.

The man who tipped her was named Matt, lived a perfectly boring life, and was making his yearly pilgrimage to the strip club with buddies from high school. Conversation was easy and the men were fascinated with the fact that it was her first night dancing the fact that home was so far away for her was just a bonus and all too soon the man to her right was pushing Matt to take her up for a dance.  
“Help the girl out, baby dancers are always better,” he suggested.  
Something about his tone made her think that he felt he knew something that she didn’t. If he thought just because she was new meant that she was going to be push over, he was mistaken. She was a dancer sure, but she still had boundaries and values, she was a person. Trying her best to imitate Candice’s flirtatious confidence Hermione smiled at Matt.  
“Is that a yes Matt?” she asked reaching out to touch his beard.  
He stood offering his hand and Hermione’s stomach hit the floor. The moment had arrived now she would have to get through a lap dance and let a stranger touch her in ways that really only three others had. She took his hand and peeled herself up from the vinyl seat back and headed to the lift up to VIP. The ride felt forced and awkward but once the bouncer ushered then into the darkened hallway the tension melted away, she could do this, worst case it was three minutes of her life and best case she made a couple of hundred dollars.  
The first song started, and Hermione hesitantly swung her leg over Matt’s lap afraid that somehow, she would feel too heavy and certainly not sexy. His calloused hands ran up her sides as she began to grind her hips into his. This wasn’t so bad, she could close her eyes and be anywhere. As one song ran into the next, Matt encouraged her to keep going and she laid each finger out, subtly keeping track of her song count.  
After four Matt was telling her “That was great babe, you’ll do just fine here.”  
He thrust a crisp hundred-dollar bill into her hand and on his way out slipped another twenty into her bra and was gone. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at being granted a few moments alone and carefully placed the cash into her bag. $120 take away tip out left her with about forty all for her to start paying back Candice and the night was still early. Still plenty of time to hustle and get the bag secured as Candice so eloquently put it.  
Early faded to late in a blur of “How are you? Mind if I join you? I’m Giselle.” She went up to VIP again twice one time for what felt like forever and left her legs burning. She received a few more handful of singles on stage until Mike was calling for an end of night review. She easily located Candice and nudged through the girls until she was by her side.  
“Damn girl, I hardly saw you tonight. Everything good?” Candice asked.  
“I think so, I haven’t counted yet and I forgot what tip out was so I really don’t know,” she replied.  
“Since you are new and it was kinda dead they might cut you a break on house fees but normally it’s a hundred,” Candice said.  
“I have that for sure,” Hermione answered absently trying to run through numbers in her head.  
If tip out was one hundred total she should still have at least three fifty left over, that was more money on a single day then she had ever made waitressing and supposedly tonight had been slow, what would it be like on a busy night? Hell it meant that she could pay Candice back and that everything she made later this week would be hers to keep. That happy thought kept her awake as she shuffled to the locker room and got dressed finally realizing how tired she actually was. Waiting for the valet to bring the car took less than five minutes but the stress had caught up with her and now that the anticipation was over as soon as she got home and showered all she wanted was her bed.  
“What are you waiting for, aren’t you going to count?” Candice insisted as soon as they pulled away from Angel’s.  
“Oh, right,” Hermione answered unzipping her bag and scooping out the cash into her lap.  
Over the course of the night she had just crammed it all in not really thinking to organize it. Thankfully sorting it out now didn’t require too much effort it was mostly large bills, according to most of the girl’s stage money had been very light even for a Wednesday. Now she was thankfully for that, she didn’t think she could mentally count a the pile of singles that Candice sometimes brought home especially in a dim, moving vehicle.  
“389,” Hermione announced reaching over to tuck it into Candice’s purse to start paying her back.  
Candice whistled, “Jeez, I only made like 240 something and had to pull teeth to do it. How’d you pull that much out tonight?”  
Hermione shrugged placing the blame fully on new girl luck. She didn’t work at Rick’s again until Monday and had the whole weekend open to dance. The girls slipped into a comfortable silence filled only by the soft Christian music in the background.  
It wasn’t until two in the afternoon the next day that Hermione even began to stir. She still had another two hours until she needed to think about leaving her bed and getting ready for work, could she even call dancing that? She supposed she could, after all even if she made two hundred tonight Candice would be complete paid back and she would have enough to cover rent. Then what? She could build up her savings again and in a few months maybe think about enrolling in a few classes at University, working towards a real future.  
The thought terrified her. There were times when she missed the wizarding world and when the idea of living like a muggle for remainder of her days felt dreadfully boring and the idea of marrying again made her stomach churn. She reached under her pillow and shivered as a warm rush passed through her body upon touching her vinewood wand. Candice thought she practiced some form of wicca but didn’t know she was an actual witch and so her wand remained infrequently used. Still it felt nice just to touch it and feel that familiar spark of magic. Maybe one day she would return to the wizarding world if only in the States, even after the war the UK wizarding population tried to avoid the Americans regardless of how much the preached about unity and working to cooperate with all wizarding communities. Hell, if her feet continued to ache like they did now after just one night in heels perhaps she could brew a low level bruise salve to use on her feet, home remedies were fairly common enough amongst muggles that it wouldn’t raise any suspicions.  
Rising from bed Hermione gasped at the sight of her legs. Purple smudges covered them from ankle to hip and it seems like brewing would be a necessity if she even expected to make it through the rest of the weekend dancing. The ingredients were all low level and common that it would take no more than a day to brew although she would have to venture into wizarding Detroit for the first time to acquire them, the thought terrified her, but it was nothing a bit of transfiguration wouldn’t fix. None of the ingredients required any form of real identification as they were all common place for even the most basic of house wives. Sure, she could probably even buy the cream already made but those tended to be weaker and the temptation of really using her magic again, even if it was just to brew something so simple was too great. Hermione would just have to get through seven more hours as Giselle and then tomorrow she could get up early and handle it.  
And get through it Hermione did, in some ways her first night as Giselle was easier but in other ways the second felt more freeing. Giselle had not lived through a war, had not given up her family, did not have a failed marriage, and could be as sexy and carefree as she pleased. Giselle could talk to any man that looked sideways at her without questioning if what she was seeing was real, it was her job to approach men. That attitude paid off when suddenly there was a flurry of singles fluttering across her stage. Was this really all for her? Had someone made a mistake? No way would someone just toss that much money on bushy haired Hermione Granger. But Hermione was left at home, Giselle was on stage and apparently someone did believe she was worth that much. But now the question was how was she supposed to pick these singles up? There had to be at least two hundred dollars here. They made the floor slippery and so for the time being she just kicked them out of her way.  
As the song faded a porter scrambled to gather the singles into a plastic bucket before sliding it over to her. The handle was broken and poked into her side as she stepped off stage eager to count and see just how much was really there, but that would have to wait. All of a sudden, the club had filed significantly and there was more money to be made. Again, the night blurred together until she was again leaving with a full purse. The number of singles from her first bucket alone yielded $180 and took her most of the car ride home to count finally arrive at just over four hundred for the grand total earnings for the night.  
“Candice, why didn’t you just drag me in sooner? I feel beat but not having to stress over depleting my savings is addicting,” Hermione asked.  
“I told you it’s not all bad,” Candice replied smugly.  
“Tomorrow I’m getting us Chinese take away, my treat. Consider it a thank you,” Hermione said.  
“Deal, I’ll hold you to that,” Candice smiled.  
And consider take away my treat for venturing into the wizarding world for the first time since arriving in the states, Hermione thought to herself. Tomorrow would certainly be an interesting day hopefully she still could manage some decent transfiguration, hair color was easy but facial features could be tricky. She bit her lip, she would just have to manage it already she could tell new bruises were forming as her legs throbbed in ways unfamiliar to her having never been much of an athlete. Oh well just a few more hours and that would be remedied, and Candice had warned her about the bruises after a couple of weeks it would be a nonissue anyway as most dancers learned how to transition smoothly onto the floor and navigate their club. Already Hermione could see how this lifestyle could easily become addictive. Skills in the club were directly measurable against how much you made each night, cash flow was great, you were your own boss, and in a good club like Angel’s the women held most of the control. Hermione vowed to herself then that ten percent of whatever she made each night would immediately go into savings and that even if she did manage to get her butt into the club that it would be a short-term gig, she would not be limited solely to club forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Draco will make his appearance soon :)

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell this is my first fanfiction work? Any edits are greatly appreciated. I plan to update weekly on Tuesday mornings.


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